Like a fine wine, we’ve aged. Fifteen years worth of aging.
We started out with just the two of us. Morning, noon and night were about us. Breakfast was a quick grab of a muffin on the way out the door, chatting about our day ahead as we piled into the Honda and carpooled to work. Lunch was a quick check-in phone call between meetings, a possible evening plan or two in the works. Dinner was a recap of the good, the bad and the ugly and a precursor to a night snuggled in on the couch to continue our binge-watch of Alias.
Then we became three. Morning, noon and night were about her. Breakfast was a race to see who could grab her out of her bed first, followed by a quick chat about the day ahead and a kiss and hug at the door as we send daddy off to work. Lunch was a trip into Target, popcorn distraction while mommy shopped and a quick call to update daddy on the exciting “firsts” of the day. Dinner was a fast game of hide and seek while food was set on the table and then a venting session of both work stress and mommy angst before settling in to watch what kind of adventures Dora was going to get herself into.
Then we became four. Morning, noon and night were about them. Breakfast was a juggling act, who wants waffles, who wants cereal, and “no you can’t bother daddy, he’s working,” on repeat. Lunch was breakfast and a quick check-in from dad before he ducked back into his home office for more of the same. Dinner was an all-out WWE wrestling match in the living room featuring Super Dad while mom hurried the meal to the table and heart smiled at all the squeals and laughs that accompanied her followed by a slightly guilt-ridden excitement that bedtime was nigh.
Yes, we’ve aged.
Gone is the smooth and unlined skin, to be replaced with a few worry dents and smile lines.
Gone are the spur-of-the-moment weekends plans, to be replaced with bike tire pumps, juice boxes and teen sleepovers.
Gone are the long and leisurely evening snuggle sessions on the couch, to be replaced with intermittent closet monster slaying, sips of water deliveries and consistent reminders to get back in bed.
Fifteen years and we’ve seen a lot of changes. Some for the best, some not. But like anything in life we attempt a modicum of success in, it’s work. Constant, ever-involving, sometimes painful but always beautiful work.
And I certainly got lucky in my coworker.
Happy Anniversary Jeremy.
Let’s keep doing it.